Through the Fire and Flames
by Dantaron
Summary: In a primeval Weyard, two men strive for dominance in what will become the first Golden Age. GSR Tournament 2008 Prox submission


Author's Notes:

Special thanks to Highlander, the GS soundtrack, Wolfmother's "Colossal", Vienna Teng, Manowar, Dragonforce, and Dream Theatre's instrumentals for inspiration on this fic!

Act I

_Life is a cycle. A primal conflict that we cannot bring ourselves to understand, an eternal dance of life and death, twined together in an irrevocable embrace. Heroes rise even as others fall, kingdoms crumble to ashes that give birth anew._

_Is this the event that began the cycle? Or is this just another step in the wheel, a part of a larger chain that passes beyond all memory?_

_This is the tale of a primal Weyard, a realm where Alchemy lay not just unsealed, but uncontrolled. With no Lighthouses, and no Stars, man possessed unlimited potential — should he choose to attain it through years and years of labour. Great kingdoms were levelled and renewed the next day, and it was only the strong who sought to protect the weaker, at the same time striking out at the strong and stronger. It was an age of transience, where nothing stayed to breath on the face of the planet before it was eradicated. It was an Age of Chaos._

_In chaos, things have no order or reason — some things just happen, and born of that are a million outcomes that no man can foresee._

Vale. The city of beginnings. The city of Alchemy, of great events — the one city that had not been eradicated completely in the last half century, and showed immense signs of its progress. It was a sprawling beauty of a metropolis, gardens and vines hanging from alabaster. A fragrant scent hung perpetually in the air, and people's from the world round gathered here, all variety of Clans and elements. Sol flew suspended in a cerulean sky, casting warm rays like kisses down to the earth below, reflecting off bubbling streams and packed earth.

And beside one of these streams, overcast by hanging gardens and just beside the square, two children met and changed history.

"Hey, kid!" the eight-year old shouted, grabbing the silver-haired kid by the shoulder and spinning him around. The kid couldn't have been younger than he was, but the way he carried himself you'd think he was five. Even now, it disgusted him to see the girly boy, his glossy hair arranged perfectly around his shoulders, perfectly straightened without the slightest hint of rough wear. His face was cultured, almost feminine in its appearance, his eyes wide and colourless, already filling with tears. His lower lip trembled, his think and frail body shaking under his black dress tunic.

"You're that Argentum brat, aren't you? My mom said you can't use psynergy yet," he sneered, pushing the other kid back with one well-placed push. He crowded the kid's space, his perfectly-shaped nose upturned slightly in distaste. His own hair was coal black, waved and rippled in a mane, as per what was required of a young boy — hair was cut according to profession in the Demante Clan, and Gazimonus' would grow until he had chosen one. His eyes were faintly cherry; his skin an off-white, and wore the scarlet doublet of the Demante over a black robe. The too-big sleeves fell back from his hands as he pushed the kid again. "Well? C'mon, can't you talk? What's your name?"

The kid just looked at him with those big snivelling eyes, and Gazi felt like punching him in the face. The kid was a Thirdborn, and he doubted if the brat had ever done a moment's honest work in his life. As a Primus, or firstborn, Gazi was put through the most rigorous training from a young age, and was already learning intricate bladework, family management, hunting, and psynergy use.

Thirdborns… no one cared about them. The Primus took over the Clan, the secondborn, or Deux, underwent equal training in the event the Primus died — a fairly frequently occurrence.

But the Thirdborn… they were non-essential to the Clan. Just deadweight.

But this inferior seemed to have a bit of spirit in him. He stopped snivelling for a moment, and Gazi was amused to see the kid actually look him in the eye. He felt a flicker of doubt for a moment, seeing those grey eyes, which seemed veiled in a thick, impenetrable fog, and even looking him in the eye Gazimonus wondered if he really saw. "My name is Argyros Argentum, Thirdborn," the sprat said, and Gazi was astonished to hear actual _pride_. "I can't use psynergy, but my mommy said that someday I'll be the greatest adept of all."

Gazimonus snorted his disbelief. "Whatever, kid."

"My mommy also said that Demante smell funny," the boy said coyly.

"What? Take that back, whelp!" Gazi said, eyes blazing.

"Smelly! Smelly!"

Gazi glared at the little runt, then swung his fist as hard as he could.

The little kid was quicker than he gave him credit for. He ducked the blow and socked him in the ribs, putting a surprisingly amount of force into it.

Gazi brought his knee up and ground it viciously into the kid's head, baring his teeth. Typical Thirdborn mistake, ducking so low as to not be aware of the opponent.

The kid struggled up, pushing his small hands frantically against Gazi's knee, as he turned his head and spat a red-tainted froth. Then, with strength one would not suspect, he swung with his other leg and crumpled Gazi's support, and the Demante tumbled over. They quickly dissolved into a unintelligible blur of swinging fists and hammering blows, with as much strength as their young bodies could muster.

The sounds of fighting attracted the attention of their mothers, who were standing holding polite conversation nearby. Selena Argentum, a woman with fair blue hair and a heart-shaped face, rushed over shouting for them to stop, and grabbed each by an ear and pulled them away. "Look at you two! Scrapping like commonborn barbarians! One would expect better than this out of two nobles."

Ytse Demante wrapped an arm around her son, pulling him close as she stared at the Argentum out from beyond her curly black hair. She rested one hand on her son's shoulder. "Don't worry, my son. We'll cleanse you of that thirdborn's touch when we get home."

Gazi, a smile rising, turned and smirked at his mother. "He insulted the Demante family name, as well. Said we had a bad aroma."

She looked affronted. "Did he? First calling you names and then fighting? Tsk… never mind, my son. Clearly, Vale has not its former reputation for hospitality and celebration…" and so glancing darkly over her shoulder, they walked out.

Shaking her head, Selena knelt and, gazing into her son's eyes, wrung her hands. "Honestly, Aleos. How could you embarrass our family so? Don't you know the intricacies with which other families must be dealt with? Honestly," she sighed. "Will you ever amount to anything?"

* * *

Act II  
_Or else a love with intuition_

_  
The air is hot, humid, languishing in a warm sea breeze that carries with it the tang of brine and the aroma of life. The sky is darkening, shading deeper and deeper to black, so that one looking at the horizon would be hard pressed to tell the difference between sea and sky. One by one, the stars of heaven begin to peer from beneath their curtains demurely, twinkling with mischievous laughter on the mortals below. The just-rising moon, a crescent of silver today, peeks over the lip of Gaia Falls to spy on the stars, and its glaze joins theirs above, and blankets Apojii below in light, illuminating the huts of the natives. And in the window of one such hut, a candle burns, casting red firelight defiantly against the silver of the sky._

_He is a tall, strapping man, not overly muscular but lithe, like a serpent. He wears a silver-and-black tunic, steel pins binding it together. His hair is the colour of fog, soft and thin, and his eyes the grey of a misty day, constantly stirred and masked by unseen wind. His face is solid, with a cleft chin and speculative eyebrows._

_She is an exotic beauty, a tan-skinned lady with a waterfall of seacress hair that caught the candlelight just so. Her face is perfectly shaped, but marred with the care of a hard life, her eyes as to frozen water. A translucent silk robe clings to her body, just masking enough to hold the air of mystery and leave some things to the imagination._

She slipped the gold into her dresser, and stood. "Okay, let's get started, then," she said over her shoulder, and began to slip out of her robe.

"Please, one moment!" he protested, and she glanced over her shoulder sharply, hands paused in the act of denuding herself. "I'm not sure if we should go through with this… it just doesn't feel right to me."

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but replaced her robe as she walked over and sat down on the bed beside him. She raised one delicate hand and stroked his air for a few moments, saying nothing. At length, she glanced up from her ministrations and looked at him. "Okay, you have morals. That's fine, we can talk some if you're not comfortable with laying with a total stranger." She slipped her fingers through his hair and toyed with it, wondering at the silkiness of the fine strands. "You already paid me, after all. I'm yours, for a while anyway."

"Thank you, milady," he said automatically, and reddened.

She raised an eyebrow and laughed softly. "It's not often I get called that. You're an odd kind of John, at any rate," she laid back on the bed, put her arms behind her head. They lay in silence for several moments, both were unsure of just how to proceed. At length, she broke the silence. "Where are you from? We don't get many gentlemen around here."

The man sketched a rough bow from his sitting position, and laid down beside her, much more comfortable in a more innocent kind of intimacy. He put his arms behind his head as well, and looked up at the thatched roofs that seemed greatly common in Apojii.

"I am a gentleman," he said, a faint hint of bitterness in his tone. "I'm a Thirdborn, of a Greater Alephen Family." He nodded in return to her sympathetic look. "I know… I was an accident — no family willing desires a Thirdborn. I was ignored, cast aside and left largely to my own devices. Sure, they fed me, clothed me, but I was not expected to have any real ambition."

"Quite naturally and simply, I was disillusioned with our entire world. There was no place for me there, so I sought my own path and began training myself under the hard book of Experience. I hope I can better myself by undergoing the Trials."

"You don't look twenty-five," she said skeptically.

He shrugged. "I'm eighteen."

She whistled. "That's pretty young to climb the Rocks."

He shrugged again. "Like I said, no one really cares about me or what I do. I just try my best, and see what happens. Maybe someday, I'll amount to something," he looked over and into her eyes, silver and turquoise. "What about you? What's your story?"

She blinked. "Me?" She laughed. "Wow, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

He frowned. "Why do you say that?"

She sat up, still smiling as she rearranged her robe more modestly. "Not many ask me that. Well, I'll tell you my story, since you're damn adorable in your naiveté."

"I'm nineteen. I was born and raised here in humble Apojii," she began, rising to her feet as she walked to the window and glanced out, unhurried. "As you can see, we were totally obliterated last time War swept over us. It was the Femotians this time, we were completely and utterly destroyed, without a contest." She gave a bitter laugh, and swept one perfectly-shaped arm in a circle. "We've been reverted to thatched huts… I guess we grew too powerful and caught the eye of our even stronger neighbours."

"My family's been on rough times lately. The annihilation of Apojii basically destroyed any industry we had, so we've had to start from scratch. All our farms razed to the ground, our father killed in battle… he left my mother with eight children, did you know? I'm the eldest, so it's up to me to help fend for money.. in any way I can." She gazed down and plucked at the hem of her translucent robe. "That was five years ago… I've been here ever since."

She sat down on the bed again, and crossed her legs beneath her robe. "I suppose it could be worse… sad to say, John, but I've gotten used to it. Night in, night out, sleep through the day… I hardly ever see my family anymore. It's a miracle I haven't gotten pregnant yet. Maybe I'm infertile," she joked… but Argyros thought there was a trace of bitterness in her almond-shaped eyes. "And well, I don't see things getting any better. Not until my younger brothers grow up and start working… they're already slaves to some of the more powerful Adepts." She gave a sigh.

"You're not one of those nobles, I can tell," she said suddenly. "There's something different about you. What's your name?"

"House Argentum," he replied. "My name is Argyros, Third."

She gave a small laugh. "Cute. My name's Myrissaimil, but most just call me Myr."

On an impulse, he took her hand and kissed it. "Pleased to meet you, Myr."

She laughed, actually laughed, and many harsh lines of care were erased from her face. "You're way too nice, especially to someone in my profession," she smiled, and ruffled his hair. "It's a shame you couldn't stay longer or be here all the time. If all my calls were like this, it'd be a pretty decent life, I suppose. But you have to be going sometime, I imagine, after you climb Aqua rock."

Aleos, encouraged by her laugh, took her arms in his and caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. Maybe this was his chance… his chance to begin to build something that was purely his own, not his family's. Something he felt from his own heart. Something that was his, that was worth something.

"After I find what I'm looking for," he said, reaching up and running a hand through her hair as she had done to his. "I'll come back for you, Myr. I'll take you away from all this, and there won't be any more lines of care for you, I'll wipe them away. You won't need to do this to feed your family, I'll take a share of your burden."

"I've always wanted to help people. No one ever helped me when I needed it, but I'll change that. I'll change the way the world believes and loves, I'll make brother and sister and friend each other's supports, I'll rescue the poor from where they struggle. I'll melt the snow around your flower, Myr, rain love on you and allow you to bloom," he gazed into her eyes, his shining earnestly.

She gave a light laugh. "If you can, Argyros… if can really do all this, and save my family, I'll be in your debt." She smiled. "Just try not to be so cheesy about it, mmkay?"

He returned the smile. "I'll try."

Her smile changed tone, and suddenly there was a sly expression in her eyes. "Now," she said, climbing into his lap and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Why don't we seal this deal? You should get what you paid for, after all," she said, kissing his neck lightly. She drew back, eyes thawing with laughter. "Any moral objections now?"

Argyros unpinned the top of his tunic. "None whatsoever."

Two bodies, two hearts, twined perfectly together under the nighttime Apojii sky.

* * *

Act III

_Five years have passed. The awkward boy without psynergy has grown into a confident, thoughtful man, the fogs having parted somewhat before his eyes. He walks with slow, measured steps through a Valean vineyard, grace his essence as his hardened body carries him almost ethereally as he walks. His face, albeit one more scarred and hardened from scenes of battle, still focuses with childlike wonder at the woman beside him.  
She walks, a blue-haired woman whose clothes are rather more modest than they used to be. She wears a leather breastplate over a silk dress, tastefully dyed blue and complimenting her form, her hips swaying beneath the material. Her eyes ran clear with laughter as she giggles at a joke he makes, and playfully frisks him, much to his mortification._

He had kept his promise. He had come back a better man, a stronger man, and a wiser man… but still held dear his idealistic naiveté and whisked her family away, paying for it with money earned by his Izuman blade. He is still unable to use psynergy, but having seen the world and all its chaos, it does not seem that important anymore. Only, what he can do to help.

She is freed from her bonds, her family growing stronger each day as she spreads her wings, free at last from responsibility. She has taken up psynergy, and has long left prostitution behind — she serves now as a warrior in the Valean defence force, assisting Argyros in fending for her family despite his protests. And soon, for prosperity's sake, her family will not need either of them.

But, it is the lot of peace to always be shattered.

War waits for no man, after all.

Argyros and Myrissa walked down the path, alabaster walls shielding them from view, while grapevines gently perfumed the air with the scent of life.

Unbeknownst to them, another couple walked the same path.

And so Argyros and Gazimonus met again.

They stared in disbelief at the changes time had wrought. Gazimonus had filled out from a rough boy into a handsome, refined gentleman. His body, beneath his silk shirt, was heavily tanned and sported strongly defined muscles from farmwork, and his scarlet eyes now bore the burden of experience, aglow with the inner fire of passion. His hair was incredibly long, down past his waist and braided in a thick ponytail — Demante tradition. Still uncut, still unguided.

On his arm was a smokey woman, her hair long and dusk grey, the colour of a clouds as daylight failed. She was clad in layering lace gowns, seemingly unbothered by the summer heat. Her face held a natural beauty, a kind of dark-skinned glow that was the hallmark of her descent — a separate Luna Clan from Gazi's, if Argyros were to guess.

They stood opposite each other, Argyros and Myr, facing Gazimonus and his unnamed companion.

Slowly, with a righteous grin, Gazimonus swept a deep bow. "Why, Argyros," he rumbled, and Argentum noted his voice had changed, deepened with age. "Such a pleasure is all the more so for being unforeseen. I never imagined we would meet again."

Argyros folded his arms. "You knew the day would come. The tale of the rising star of Demante has been all over Weyard; the son of a Great House does not go unnoticed." He inclined his head, with the same gracefulness and self-control Gazi had displayed in his bow. "You have matured well with the years, Gazimonus."

The Luna Adept raised an eyebrow, and smiled. "You as well, Argyros. In my younger age, I had not suspected that the bratty Argentum child would someday become a daring and brave captain. I have heard you have recently taken Apojii from the Femotians: my sincerest congratulations." His eyes strayed to the woman at his side. "Is this where you obtained such a gorgeous woman?"

"I think you well know," Myr responded, her eyes not on him, but instead on the woman at his side. "Unless my eyes deceive me, that is Faye. Have you not recently been to Apojii, Gazimonus? Namely, a certain discreet building on the outskirts?"

Gazimonus beamed. "Very perceptive, my lady. I see Argyros, too, has taken the policy of adopting a harlem girl to improve his image as the healer of mankind." He gently grazed a finger along the neck of his companion. "Would that she was a beautiful as Faye, alas," he said mournfully.

"Now is not the time nor the place to incite conflict, Gazimonus." Argyros said, stepping in politely. "Our families are not exactly on the most peaceful terms, so unless you wish to incite a genocide, I suggest treading carefully. The path of life is constantly fraught with danger — one false step, Gazimonus. I take personal offence that I fell in love with Myr for her former profession," he said, placing a hand on her slender shoulder. "I fell in love with her for her independence, for her free will. For her strength," he said, as he idly ran a hand through her hair. "And her looks aren't bad, either," he said with a smile.

Gazimonus gave a rumbling laugh, and wrapped an arm around Faye, making a lazy gesture in the air with his other hand. "Whatever will be, will be, Argyros. You cannot avoid the conflict forever," he said, as he began to lead Faye around them. His eyes never left Argyros' as he moved, crimson fighting with fog. "All things must come to an end, it is our destiny. And in that final step of the road, Argyros, I will look down on you in triumph, and Demante will never fear again." His breath was like a cold kiss on Argyros' face, and in the next moment, Gazimonus was past him.

"In the end, there can be only one."

* * *

Act IV

_Ten more years have passed.  
Weyard is gasping, rent and torn, bleeding from the edges and scarred with Alchemical might. Simmering conflicts have erupted into all out global war, as the very foundations and base of the world begin to crack and crumble beneath the feet of the titans above._

_As he predicted, Gazimonus and Argyros, clans Demante and Argyros, are two blades poised to cross in the battle that will make — or break — Weyard's future._

_But can man really be trusted with that power?_

_Or is there a third way, beyond triumph or failure?_

Argyros looked around the table at the faces before him, the greatest and mightiest of the nations in his alliance. He clenched Myr's hand beside him, thankful for her emotional support, and took a deep breath.

It was as Gazimonus had foretold. They were like two bulls rushing headlong , gathering Clan after Clan to them, 'til they were so great the ground beneath them shook — and when they finally struck together in the final hour, who could predict what could happen?

"What do you have?" he asked, and with that question, the course of Weyard again took a turn.

He gazed around at their faces. The other Clans. His alliance. His friends.

His wife, Myr, and Pelagius — her father, thought to be dead. The latter the greatest sailor the world has ever seen, and the former having grown from a bitter, cynical prostitute, blossoming into a strong and steadfast weight for him to weigh on, a diplomat, and a master of Mercury psynergy.

Vladimir Proxenov, the casual thief who had rose to prominence in the Northern Wastes through assassination and careful maintenance afterwards. His gauntlets never left his hands, the claws still faintly smouldering in the cave torchlit. Despite his appearance, Vladimir was a scholar, a master of oral lore — nothing in this world survived long enough when written down.

Yegelos d'Anemos, a burly Jupitarian with a feral smile and a mane of blond hair to put most men's to shame. He wore just a simple battle vest, but the easy grace with which he moved conveyed his statue and skill more than anything. He was the mightiest warrior Argyros had ever seen, having subdued one of Gazimonus' greatest generals, Hoabna, and even convinced him into a truce.

Leaning in from the mountainside without, Tanya sat on the mountain. The two-hundred foot Colossal from the Great Tree Forest looked the same as always, her wild-darkened skin contrasting with her faintly ropelike hair, and the massive tricera battle armour she wore. Her dark eyes surveyed the meeting with acute, almost savage intelligence. On her shoulder, perched as always, Gremian sat cross-legged, his full-body armour hindering him not at all as he idly sharpened his broadsword.

Vladimir leaned forward, and unrolled a rough, handdrawn map of Weyard. "Well, Argyros… if what I believe we have here is correct, we are going to change Weyard forever."

Myrissa snorted. "Cut with the melodrama for once, Vlad, and get to the point."

He grinned. "Careful, about annoying me Myr, you might find something macabre in your bed when you wake up. And no, I'm not talking about Argyros." He smoothed the chart before him. "As I was saying, there seems to be something special about certain districts of Weyard, certain anomalies inherent in the ground itself. It seems the Rocks are not the only major source of Elemental energy — in four areas across the land, there seems to be a definite swell in psynergy. Often, these areas are desolate and fairly out of the way, protected by natural defences."

He drew forth a set of coloured pins and tacked them on the map — one in the Northern Wastes, just south of the Crystal Fields, one in the heart of southwest Pantera, one on its north-eastern peninsula, and one right in the cup of its crescent, in the midst of the Great Forest.  
"Coincidentally, or perhaps not so, I was born in the northern region, Yegelos, you are from the southwest, and Tanya and Gremian hail from the forest. And all of us are exceptionally powerful Adepts, even by our standards." He looked up at them. "It may be that the Rocks, after all, are not the strongest source of the elements. But rather, these unnamed isolations have a power fair older than we are."

He leaned forward, steepling his hands. "I propose we build machines to harness this power — to function as a dam, channelling its raw strength into making it more refined, and perhaps in the process, we can weaken the Alchemic flow in Weyard." He turned to Argyros, who sat up suddenly.

"We could restrain the powers of every Adept in the world — take away their strengths, enforce limits on their potential! Weyard would never need to fear destruction again, and countries might actually have a chance to grow," he spoke the word country with reverence. "We could turn Weyard from a savage garden in an ordered, idyllic place. Around these machines we could build the prime of civilization, caretakers of their power, dutybound to protect them from harm. And in exchange these machines will bring them light and strength to flourish — be bringers of light to the people. They shall be the Lighthouses, houses of light and hope for our people, and for all the people of Weyard."

Yegelos nodded, and slid over Vladimir's map. He studied it intently for a moment. "It's perfect. The areas are just enough out of the way to avoid Gazimonus' attention if we use just stealth — and look at the natural fortifications! The northern wastes are on an entirely different continent from Pantera, my own village is protected on all sides by high mountains, Tanya's is hidden within a dense forest and blocked on all sides by water or desert, and the last is on a slender bit of shoreline on the far side of the Mount Aleph range." He grinned, slamming the table in his excitement. "By Jupiter! We may actually be able to do one of your hairbrained schemes, Vlad."

Vlad took the map. "There is… one more thing, a distinct possibility that cannot be ignored." He drew lines from the proposed sites, bisecting the map each time. And as they leaned forward, they saw that all the lines intersected on one exact point. They stared for a moment.

"That's Mount Aleph, isn't it?" Myr said hesitantly. "Right above Vale. What does this mean?"

"It's only a theory," Vlad reassured her. "But the initial influx of Alchemy into the Lighthouses may cause an overflow," he said, already using Argyros' word, "as all the world's energy floods through them. It will most likely stabilize afterwards once it begins to be controlled, but what we will still have is a massive rush of Elemental energy. They will draw to each other by elemental attraction-repulsion theories, and gather at the centre point — and there, on Mount Aleph, all four beacons of alchemy will interact and — this is just pure theory — but may form a pure essence by Alchemic reaction, somehow binding together into a theoretical "fifth element" that contains therein all the powers of the others, and more."

Gremian's helm inclined upwards for an instant. "In plain terms?"

Vlad rolled the map. "It will create a new substance while bathing Aleph in this fifth element — and whoever is present, whoever seizes this new substance, will hold unimaginable power, far exceeding any of that of the Adepts today."

There was a moment of silence as that all sunk in.

"If the Dark One arrives there before us…" Tanya rumbled, the very stones resonating with her voice. "We cannot keep this expedition a secret forever."

"We'll just have to be there already, now won't we?" Gremian said airily, blowing the dust off his blade and looking down the length of its green-gold metal. Satisfied, he sheathed it. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"All the forces of Weyard will be gathered there," Argyros said slowly, looking up from a thoughtful haze. "It will be the final battle. If Gazimonus realizes what we are trying to achieve, he will stop at nothing to seize it for himself. And no matter who the winner turns out to be, our world will be changed forever."

"That might not necessarily be a bad thing," Myr said softly.

"Well, Argyros?" Vlad said, rocking back in his chair and glancing sideways at their leader. "Do we do it?"

There was a pause, as Argyros collected his breath. It was elusive at first, a fragile and shy thing, but he coaxed it into his lungs. "… Yes. I shall wait on Aleph's peak for Gazimonus, to hold him off as long as I can. I leave it up to each of you whether or not to be there." He did not say what they all knew, that they would be fending off an army many times their size. He did not say that some of them may not survive. He did not say that hundreds of people would die, that there would be blood spilled into the ground into it ran red, that the earth would be tortured until her stone cracked, that fire would fill the air and frozen limbs break off, that even carrying metal was a hazard in a sky filled with electricity.

They all knew this. They had seen it before.

Yegelos was the first to break into a grin. "I'd be there no matter what you say, Argyros. So will Hoabna."

"Gazimonus will hurt the earth in his quest for progress, and destroy the small remnant of my people. Respectfully, Lord Argyros, I cannot allow that. I request to join you."

"If Tanya goes, I go," Gremian said.

"My ship is ready and willing to bear you wherever you desire," Pelagius spoke, breaking the watchful silence that was his trademark.

"I will by your side, always," Myr said, placing a hand over Argyros.

There was a beat. Argyros raised an eyebrow at Vladimir.

He grinned. "And miss the greatest scientific achievement in recorded history? I'll be there."

Argyros stood, and the rest of his council, friends, and fellow warriors stood as well. "Then it is decided. Let's do it," he said, and the last of the fog in his eyes was swept away. He now saw his purpose, bright and clear.

* * *

Act V  
_On a cold winter morning, in the time before the light._

_ Mount Aleph was poised on the brink of eruption._

_An eruption of sheer war, and it smoked with the scent of bloodlust, its fires the glinting of sun-on-steel. The earth rumbled with the tread of ten thousand soldiers, and their fire roared with the hoarse cries of battle._

_They were poised, waiting only for the signal to begin._

_On its peak, the brothers-in-arms of the Argentum Clan stood waiting. Tense. Their bodies like wire, vibrating with anticipation, their psynergy reserves high. Very air around them seemed to shimmer with their auras, the weapons clutched tightly in sweaty hands._

_Vladimir, pointed ears twitching and crown of red hair pulled back under a mail cap, a light robe and breastplate all the protection he needs — the tough scales on his body do the rest._

_Gremian is as stoic as ever. He gives away no expression behind his closed helm, and the tip of his blade is buried in the earth. If he is worried, he does not show it. Tanya behind him sits cross-legged, deep in meditation as she aligns herself with the earth._

_Yegelos wears his traditional battle garb, wispy and loose pants that seem shapeless, and his normal battle vest over his chiselled muscles. Hoabna stands behind him and off to the side, looking around slightly sulkily, his dark skin accentuated by the tanned leather he wears, his long black hair twined with feathers. He checks the string on his bow, and waits._

_High in the sky above, Pelagius' airship circles._

_Myrissa just holds Argyros tight, having prepared five years for this day, but unable to participate. The round swell of her belly prevents her from doing so — she is pregnant with his child. She is happy, in a way, for it — she knows that after today, she may never see him again._

_Argyros himself stands, reflecting on his life. His family is dead. Everything that had thrown him aside and treated him as nothing was gone, but he still bears the memory of those days. Never again, he swears, will he allow a child to be forgotten, and vows in the new age, things will be different. For he has no present family to fight for — he fights for Myr, and for his child to be._

_He takes a deep breath. Savours the taste._

_He releases Myr with reluctance, and turns to his friends._

_"Let's do it," Argyros says, and flashes his sword to Pelagius in the sky._

_Vlad, Gremian, Yegelos, and Pelagius focus on their mental connection with the Lighthouse, and find with ease the hollow Star within, and wait to open their channels._

_Argyros smiles. "Let's make history."_

_Weyard rocks for a moment as the four Lighthouses tap into its energy, and there is the disorienting sensation of swirling as the Alchemy channels are slowly rerouted, drawn with relentless force to the constructed Lighthouses. It hurls faster and faster, running through the veins of the Lighthouse and energizing it, and then four flares of Elemental energy surged into the sky… and arc towards Mount Aleph._

_On the horizon, the sky shifts into a kaleidoscope of colours, every shade of red, blue, green, and violet painting the sky like a canvas._

_There is the whirl of flapping fabric, and two heavily booted feet slam into the ground behind them._

Gazimonus smiled, savouring their surprised expressions. "What, did you believe I'd miss the party?"

"Now," Argyros said, and with a flip of his arm, his group dispersed and plunged onto the mountain below. Myr retreated to a safe distance, watching anxiously.

_The peak is left barren, save for the two figures standing alone on the stone. A chill wind blows, lightly ruffling their hair and cloaks — the winds of change._

"It really is a shame things had to end this way, Argyros," Gazimonus said, beginning to walk a circle around his foe. "If we had not been born of different families, we could've been friends. Brothers. You and I are a lot alike, in many ways. We are the last two standing — we have pacified Weyard from countless warring families, put an end to war."

"It could have been possible," Argyros said, his eyes raking the other's bald head before returning to Gazimonus'. "Priest is the profession you have chosen, Demante? War is a cruel mistress to call you from that… but at the least, her reign is nearly up."

"Yet, there is still one more war to fight, before true peace can be brought to Weyard." Gazimonus stopped walking, and faced Argyros. "I still lament the fact it had to happen, Argyros."

"Then leave now, Gazimonus. You still have your family, go to them. I fight for all families, since I have none left to me. I am my own family, and only what I do crafts my legacy."

Gazimonus laughed softly. "You know very well that cannot be, Argyros. The Demante Clan is the most hated since ancient times — we have no Rock, we have no Lighthouse, as you've called them. We just are. We're an ancient, primeval clan, we must be struck where we stand."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Gazimonus," Argyros said gently.

"Promise me this, Argyros," Gazimonus said, and for a moment Argyros detected a quaver in his voice. His eyes flicked over Argyros' shoulder, and he turned to see Gazimonus' wife climbing the rock and sitting silently beside Myr. "If you win, Adept of the nothing, Adept of the void… take care of my family. It has been a long fight. They deserve rest."

Argyros closed his eyes. "I promise. And do the same for mine, Gazimonus."

The Luna Adept laughed. "Look at us! We are growing soft in our old age. And you know, Argyros, I think I may have even grown to like you yet."

Argyros smiled in return. "Don't like me too much, Demante. It might hinder you. Shall we begin?"

Gazimonus nodded, his eyes growing cold and focused. The wind swept the peak once more, and the sky above began to take on a golden hue. "So be it."

A _clang_ split the air, and Aleph erupted.

* * *

Thousands of bodies danced together, blades carving, as every force in Weyard met in the final conflict.

Yegelos and Hoabna fought side-by-side, then back to back, their motions entirely in synchronization as if they were of one mind. Yegelos laughed openly as his lightning-shaped rapier flashed between guards and around weapons, each time finding deadly target. His body carried him effortlessly above the others, planting a foot in a soldier's face and breaking his nose, then springing off and twirling as his tip punctured his next foes heart.

Hoabna stood calmly, a statue of a man, as he slowly and methodically drew arrow after arrow from his satchel, each one fitting and releasing like clockwork. And for each time his hand struck and the arrow flew, a time ended. The enemy sank to the ground, clutching with failing hands at the arrow in his throat.

The _Quicksilber _swooped in from above, its row upon row of cannon firing in sequence, bombarding rough Demante fortifications, shrugging off the arrows thrown at it with ease.

Vladimir worked below, rushing straight through the fire of Pelagius' shots and dispatching the survivors, his gauntlets covered in fire as he gutted the enemy while they were still dazed from the shots above.

He met with an officer, their high red crest proclaiming their worth to the world. They exchanged blows, greatsword and gauntlets, each time barely blocking the giant blade's assault with the vambraces of his weapon. Impatient, and eager to move on, he rolled backwards, sprung up, and joining his hands together, unleashed the fire on his gauntlets. He kicked down the body, ignoring the smoking stump where the head used to be, and moved on.

Tanya stuck out clearly on the battlefield, her two hundred foot frame seen from afar as she ran through a pack of dire wolves. Arrows bounced off her dinoskin armour, and those that managed to sink into her skin were mere annoyances, pin pricks. She hated destroying animals, but the creatures were bent on tearing apart the soldiers, and so she grudgingly picked up each one, quickly and painlessly breaking its neck before tossing it aside, lips moving in constant prayer to Venus, asking for forgiveness even as she took the life of her creatures.

Gremian protected Tanya's vulnerable ankles, his blade whistling through the air like a falling leaf, tracing an intricate and unpredictable path as it separated limbs and heads indiscriminately. Muscles hidden beneath plates of steel flexed and worked, green eyes hidden in the shadow of his helm taking in every detail, every guard, and guiding his blade as it swept through the air.

And still, the dance continued.

* * *

Myr watched the battle below with her heart in her throat, wishing she could help in some way. Her fingers tingled with suppressed psynergy, and she could feel the water longing to rush from her veins — but she feared what calling psynergy through her body would do to her child, so she abstained — at the cost of being useless, just watching as the man she loved risked life and limb.

"Why are men so stupid?" she asked aloud. She didn't expect an answer.

"It's just the way they are," Faye said from her side, tucking her slate gray hair back.

"Faye," Myr asked, hating her own helplessness. "Why do they have to fight like this? We should've done something to reconcile them, to see if they could live together in peace. We're friends, Faye, why can't they be?"

"I think this is beyond them," Faye said, her dusky eyes flitting back and forth between the two combatants. "I don't think they could stop if they wanted to. Their whole lives have been for this moment, all their training — this their destiny. This duel, this clash… it's what they lived for. I think they regret it, too, but sometimes, one cannot resist the will of the Gods."

"You believe that's what this is?" Myr said doubtfully, glancing sideways. "In my experience, the Gods are far too cruel to exist… they wouldn't let all this happen."

Faye didn't look her way, her eyes remaining fixed on the figures below. "Sometimes, cruelty is necessary."

* * *

The _clang_ of metal-on-metal rang through the thin mountain air, punctured by identical grunts of effort.  
Two blades swirled away from the encounter, and met again as if drawn by irresistible force.

One blade was a scythe, its hilt a many-fingered obsidian claw, and its head crowned in a wreath of midnight fur. Its shaft was spiralled and well-worn with years of use, and its blade gleaming wine-red, eager to drink its fill. Black lines marred its otherwise perfect surface as it whistled through the air, and met its other.

The silvered katana strained to holds its own, its starred and groove surface refracting the light from a million angles, and still it kept a faint whitish glow of its own. Its blade quickly circumvented the scythe and turned it aside, twisting to put force into a thrust, and was blocked by an upturn of the haft of the scythe.

The dark one suddenly leapt high in the gold-turning air and unleashed a black-red explosion, almost like a Marswork, that hung in the air for a moment before dissipating. A signal.

It seemed he was not done yet.

The duellists retreated to a safe distance, and sunset red eyes met silver.

There were no words for this, the ancient conflict and simplicity of one-on-one combat.

None were needed.

In unison, they sprang at each other once more.

* * *

The warriors on the mountainside found each other, slightly wearied but exhilarated — there was a lull in the conflict, and they took the opportunity to rest. It seemed as if they were turning the tides on the Demante's numbers — who were mostly weak peasants.

Then the explosion shattered the lull, and they all looked up to see the great red-black orb hanging over Mount Aleph, then faded.

"What was-" Yegelos began.

The question was answered as all over the field, psynergetic auras went off as invisibility domes were dispelled, revealing teams of a Luna Adept and ten other Adepts of various elements.

It was time to bring out the _real_ Adepts, apparently.  
"I knew it was too easy," Yegelos said mournfully.

They immediately scattered to the winds as the position they had occupied was obliterated in a blaze of Sol psynergy, the time-based magic reducing everything in a ten foot radius to pre-existential nothingness.

With no time to co-ordinate any definite attack, they were left with merely self-preservation.

Hoabna leapt nimbly from rock-to-rock, narrowly dodging blasts of fire, ice, lightning, stone, consuming Luna or purifying Sol. His bows were useless in ranged combat against psynergy, so he drew his spear from his back and leapt high into the air, hurling it like a javelin at the Luna Adept who had been casting. The mages with him faltered as he went down, blood gathering around his neck — providing just enough time.

Hoabna landed in their midst and ripped out his spear, twirling 360° and slicing two more throats open, and landing in a feral stance as he smiled. Their psynergy was useless at this range, and everyone knew mages had no fighting ability.

Singing a song softly in his shaman tongue, he struck them down one by one.

Yegelos was harder put to it as he advanced towards a huddle of Jupitarians, fear slowly growing on their faces as he advanced. It disgusted him to see kindred Adepts on Demante's side, and so he walked forward, blade flashing to intercept lightning as he could. Jupiter psynergy didn't have much effect on him… but still, he bore the blackening of his skin, the charring of his clothes, and the twitching and disabling of his muscles silently, as he marched forward.

He impaled the first one, fried the second with ball lightning, and then rage overtook him.

Vladimir found himself hemmed in by a group of melee soldiers, and cursed himself for getting careless. He worked himself into a ball, counting on his carapace to defend his back as he fended off blows with his gauntlets, arms a blur as he obsessed himself with protection instead of attacking. Just as his carapace of scales felt on the brink of breaking, and his arms were beginning to tire, and cuts were beginning to score against his body, slowly slicing small wounds all over his exposed skin… he saw an opening. He dug himself out some space, and landed an uppercut on a soldier's chin, breaking his jaw. The man dropped, in time for Vlad to see a Mercury Adept completing a psynergy, and read the _Freeze Prism_ on his lips.

He frantically grabbed a soldier and threw him into the air — the kind soul took the first cart-sized ball of ice for him and was pulverized. And as the chunks of ice continued to rain down on friend and foe alike, Vlad snuck through the midst of the enemy's ranks to escape, cutting a hamstring there, slicing a throat here…

Tanya may be imposing as hell, Gremian knew, but her size made her a particular easy target for the mages now appearing. And though she had superhuman resilience to psynergy, still each blow took a little out of her, and now she raised her arms, as the spells razed her, each one forcing her to take a step back. Emboldened, the mages pushed themselves to even greater extent, concentrating all their focus on taking down the giant.

Gremian was still running for her when she finally buckled and fell over, the spells continuing to smash her even so — he was almost knocked off his feet by the impact, but sheer will drove him on. He couldn't let anything happen to Tanya, he would have failed in his duty as her guardian.

He drew his sword, and aimed for the mages. They weren't looking his way, poor fools.

They never saw him coming.

Of course, on this battlefield, it was the Quicksilber that soon came to dominate, as Pelagius piloted it silently. It came down, unfearing of any possible threat. The mirror shields that adorned its outer hell, enhanced with psynergy, either reflected or took any spells silently. Arrows bounced off harmlessly. The only thing that had even the least bit effect was stones and ice, and it was only a tiny fracture.

Its sleek form slowly turned parallel to the mountain as Pelagius turned the wheel, secure inside the inner cabin. And then, upon command…

Row upon row of shielded hull slid back, revealing cannon after cannon each fuelled by raw psynergy, as they began to glow with blue light. Every face on the battlefield paused as they became aware of their impending doom.

And then the _Quicksilber_ fired, and energy beams pounded the stone of Mount Aleph until its side was simply dust.

* * *

"Hey, isn't that Argyros' bitch?" Myr turned and saw, to her dismay, a sizable group of soldiers climbing the stone below them, one of them pointing. The archers with the squad raised their bows, and began to draw their arrows…

Forgive me, my son, she thought, and waved a hand in their direction. She felt the child in her womb give a spastic kick, and then…

The stone all in front and below her blew apart as a torrent of water erupted forth, cascading in a froth of white rapids down the mountainside, blowing the soldiers' feet out from under them and sending them to their deaths down the edge.

Unfortunately, a mage had the sense to throw up a psynergy shield, and even as the strain of maintaining the barrier cost him his life, the friends he had managed to save began casting their own spells. Myr didn't have enough time to cast another spell…

"Hey! She's under my protection, hear, soldiers of Demante! She is a bystander, and is not to be harmed!"

"But, Lady Faye," one of them protested, his spells flickering. "Our friends…"

"Are you questioning my orders?" she said darkly, her element beginning to gather around her hands.

"No, milady…" he responded, and said something quietly to his friends. With an air of almost disbelief, they turned and descended down the mountainside.

Later, they would be blown to pieces by a blast from the _Quicksilber _— one of its last, in fact. So they would not live with their grief for long — perhaps is best.

For the present, Myr turned to her friend and smiled, her first today. "Thank you, Faye. I thought I was going to die, there."

She laughed lightly. "Hey, they would've hit me, too."

Myr was about to say something, but before she could, the wind carried the sound of metal grating metal, and then a tearing sound and a grunt of pain. They both immediately turned back to the battle, where Gazimonus had found a way through Argyros' defences and cut across the top of his leg. He fought on anyway, hardly letting it hinder him.  
Myr moaned. "I almost can't watch…" she said, burying her face in her hands.

Faye reached over and shook her, rousing her. "Do it. He deserves it, Myr."

"What do we do if they die, Faye? What are we left with to remember them by?"

She smiled, and reaching over, patted Myr's stomach. "You're pregnant, I see. That, in itself, is enough. You have a piece of him already."

Myr laughed weakly. "I never thought it would happen… we tried and tried, but nothing happened until recently. It's like a miracle." She smiled. "And you?"

Faye laughed. "I have a three-year old at home. He's the devil, haha — worse than his father."

Their laughter suddenly cut off as there was another grunt of pain — Argyros' hit, this time. Myr looked on the scene below, and bit her lip. "I hope, somehow, both our children will get to see their fathers again."

* * *

The fifth element was coming, Argyros knew. He could feel it, see it in the change in their fighting. The sky had begun to look as if it was lit by a golden sun, and even the colours they saw, every detail, seemed vivid and marvellous. All their senses were heightened… and over time, their blows, their strikes, their parries, all had began to come faster and faster, and they never grew tired, only seemed to find more energy to feed on — it was a vicious cycle, to fight and fight and fight until the end, until one died, nothing slowing them down. All their wounds seemed not to affect them, much — it was easy to ignore the gash in his leg, and it hardly affected his performance at all.

He must've been too caught up in his thoughts, since next he knew there was a scytheblade descending on his head. He gave a yelp and barely deflected it with a hasty overhead circle, then continued the spiral of his blade around the scythe and riposted — but Gazimonus twisted around his blade, gave a low "humph", and spun off.

The Luna Adept leapt backwards, and sketching a quick pattern with his hands, unleashed an orb of pure Luna Psynergy on Argyros, who reacted by pure instinct and raised his forearm and — to his immense surprise — batted it away. It left only a minor scorch on his arm, as it deflected and chewed a small crater in Aleph's surface.

"I guess we're beyond Psynergy, then," Argyros said with a smile. "More even playing field."

At precisely that moment, it happened.

Four beams of energy, each a different colour, met above the mountain and collided in a massive explosion. They melded in a rainbow of swirling colours, slowly rotating faster and faster into an orb of pure golden light.

Again, Argyros was reminded of the sun.

Then the orb fired a shaft of raw power down on them, and all thoughts were wiped from his mind in a rush of pure, exhilarating, **power**!

He looked up at Gazimonus, golden light flashing in his eyes as the power continued to pour down from above… and saw, beyond him, the _Quicksilber_ fly by.

Gazimonus leapt into the air — and then hung suspended as a web of black psynergy expanded around him, crimson sigils embedded in the pattern. A complex insignia of shadow spread on the ground below him, and Demante raised his head to the sky in ecstasy. He thrust his hands outwards, and in a voice mightier than he possessed, screamed to the world:

** "**I summon you, Abraxas, black dragon of night!**"**

The earth shook.

* * *

The battlefield was quiet, now. Having raged for hours, many of the soldiers were dead, their corpses littering the mountainside like so many leaves. In the midst of the chaos, they found each other again — weary, tired, with horrors writ on their faces, Yegelos, Hoabna, Vladimir, and Gremian met again. They looked at each other wearily, each bearing the scars of the battle so far, when Vladimir perked up.

"Gremian, where's Tanya?" he said, worried.

The knight shook his head, his shoulders sagging. "She was hit by a lot of psynergies… a lot. She's out cold, heavily injured… her body will repair itself, given time, but it'll take a while."

_Quicksilber_ floated in the background, switching from cannons to precision lasers to pick off sole stragglers on the battlefield as they ran.

"Oh, I see," Vlad responded, and clapped a hand on Gremian's shoulder. "It'll be fine… my sympathies, though. You look like you've been through hell."

"We all have," Hoabna said suddenly, in thickly accented common language.

Yegelos was surprised, and slapped his friend on the back. "You learned our language! A little, at least. A good improvement, Hoabna."

Hoabna gave a feral smile back.

And then all hell broke loose.

The sky was transformed into purest gold, and a huge orb shone its radiance on the mountainside, casting into sharp relief the bodies and blood that adorned it. They barely had a moment to breathe, before the black rift formed beneath the Quicksilber.

It was impossible. One moment the _Quicksilber_ was hovering, still lazily firing its cannons, the next, an enormous black dragon erupted from the ground beneath it and roaring, ripped into and _through_ the _Quicksilber_, sending gleaming shards of mirror high into the sky. The airship hung suspended for a moment, and then with a psynergetic whirring sound, its energy system collapsed, and it blew apart in a massive multicoloured blast of psynergy several hundred feet wide, knocking them all on their feet. The following sonic boom deafened them all for an instant, and as they climbed back to their feet, they could only stare at the curling smoke in the air where the ship used to be.

"Pelagius!" Yegelos shouted, and it dawned on them.

He was gone. Just like that.

There was a heavy impact behind them, and a snorting sound accompanied by the stench of sulphur. "He is the least of your worries, now," a gravely voice said, and they turned to face Pelagius' killer.

Abraxas was an immense dragon, easily three hundred feet tall, with a span of twice that in its black-veined wings. Its colour was a dark, corpse grey, and its horns and spinal ridges were as ebony, its claws likewise. White sigils were drawn on its barrel-like chest, but what might've been holy-coloured in another was pale ghostly white on the dragon. Its forelegs and arms flexed with heavily armoured scales, and its sneering snout lowered to look at them more easily, its crimson eyes marked with catlike pupils. Its tail waved hypnotically in the air behind it as it roared again.

"What the fucking hell?" Vladimir said bluntly. "Abraxas?"

The dragon's eyes widened, and it lowered its head. "Vladimir?"

"You're supposed to be protecting my Clan, Dragon! You swore!"

The dragon shook its head, and blew sulphur on the Mars Adept. "I am sorry, I have a greater pact with Gazimonus. I would that it had turned out another way — and forgive me, but die!" he suddenly reared back in the air, beat his wings forward once to fly back, and inhaling, breathed a cloud of black flames over the warriors.

Vladimir stood resolutely in place, and smashing his gauntlets' together, created a shimmering shield of Mars. "No one backstabs me, you son of a bitch," he growled. "I do the backstabbing here. You may have hurt us, but you can't stop us." The fire began to seep past the shield, and blisteringly hot flames traced their vapours just pass him, disintegrating flesh wherever it touched. "Nothing has ever stopped us on our path to get here, nothing will."

The fires washed over them, scalding their skin and brushing them gently, each tenderly, like a lover — but the black widow, that killed rather than healed.

They felt their strength leaving them, and still all they saw beyond Vlad's desperate shield was churning and seething fire, blacker than they had ever seen. The strain showed on Vlad's face, and perspiration ran down his skin.

Abruptly, it stopped, and a roar of frustration reached their ears.

Abraxas was on his back, wings flailing useless against the giant on its front. Tanya had leapt from nowhere and tackled the dragon, pinning it to the ground with her knees as she wrapped immensely strong hands around its neck, pressing giant thumbs into its windpipe, cutting off its airflow. It thrashed madly, tail scoring giant gashes down Tanya's back, and its head bit again, again, and again at Tanya's arms, each one tearing away more than a mansized chunk of flesh.

"Tanya!" the cry ripped itself from Gremian's throat and flew through the air, and a moment later the others were following as he ran across the mountain, jumping the bodies and corpses that littered the earth.

Tanya's grip on the dragon's throat was weakening as he systematically ripped the muscles from her arms, and she knew it. And from the triumphant gleam in his eye, so too, did the dragon. Her body would heal itself in time, truly. But time was a virtue she was short on.

She bowed her head, raven-dark hair obscuring her face for a moment. "I'm sorry, Gremian," she said. She released the dragon's neck, and as his neck whipped around and sank redhot fangs into her neck, she lay flat on the dragon, hands weakly searching out for reassurance from the cool earth. She sank her hands into the stone, and concentrated, even as blackness rushed in.

The others watched, transfixed, as Tanya's hands slowly turned to stone, frozen in place, and the stone travelled like liquid up her arms, down her sides, through her body and down her legs, then finally upwards through her body, rippling across her back and lightly brushing her neck, before settling in and soaking through.

They could see her face from where they stood, and saw as the expression of serenity was frozen into place, for all time.

Letting loose a primal shout of rage, Gremian ran up Tanya's frozen arm and leaped onto her back. "Come on, so-called spirit! Show me what you have, you son of a bitch!" Gremian fought like a madman, his blade blazing through the air as he hacked at one of Abraxas' pinned talons, rolling to dodge the dragon's attempts to pincer and crush him in his hand, blade hacking at the dragon's wrist, each blow sinking a bit further into the flesh.

The dragon let out a howl of pain and frustration, and slammed its head down on the stone binding it, trying to break the figure of Tanya. Its fang broke upon the impact, and it roared again with renewed pain.

Hoabna calmly lifted an arrow, and shot the dragon in the roof of the mouth.

Yegelos, nimble as an eagle, danced up the dragon's throat, leaping from spinal ridge to ridge and onto the dragon's head. He hung from its eyebrow ridge, gripped his rapier in his free hand, and swinging down stabbed the dragon's eye with his blade, and roughly ripped the very eyeball from its socket.

The dragon went nuts, head flailing desperately in an attempt to shake Yegelos.

Vladimir, though weakened and severely burned, found the strength to attack the dragon's lower neck, sending blow after blow onto the beast's windpipe, picking up where Tanya left off. The fire-imbued gauntlets began to slowly crack through the scales covering it, and he relentlessly pounded, pounded, and pounded.

Yegelos leapt over the top of the dragon's head, swinging from its ridge, and buried his blade in the beasts other eyeball, blinding it.

Hoabna stepped backwards, aimed an arrow at the beast's throat, and glanced along the shaft — but one should never take a dragon for granted. He stepped backwards again to line up the shot — too far.

Its tail, razor-tipped, swung around and caught Hoabna just above the knees, separating his feet from his body. He never cried out in pain, just turned and fired his arrow, piercing the dragon directly where its neck met its head, just as it was about to unleash an inferno on Yegelos. Black fire erupted from the arrowhole, its firesac punctured.

Having hacked off both talons, Gremian now leapt up to Vladimir, who had broken away all the scales covering an area of its neck — while tears coursed down his face.

"I understand it was a friend once, Vlad, but for Tanya's sake, _move_!"

But, too late. Abraxas, blind, disabled, and pinned, still swung his head around and flicked upwards — sending Yegelos into the air, and then into its mouth.

Gremian impaled his sword into the dragon's throat, and twisting, heard a very satisfying snap as he broke its neck.

At the same time, Yegelos' rapier drove up through the roof of the dragon's mouth, splitting Hoabna's first arrow in half and up through the hole and into the dragon's brain.

Abraxas went rigid, every limb left reaching as far as it could, shivering in its death throes. It tried to scream, its bleeding sockets frantically searching for any assistance, but there was no salvation.

"Die, you son of a bitch," Gremian said grimly, and beheaded it in one swift stroke.

The dragon's head dropped to the ground, and Yegelos emerged from the mouth, severely annoyed and covered in spit. "That was the most disgusting thing I have ever experienced," he coughed. His muscled body was covered in scores of cuts from the dragon's fang, and a thin line ran down his eyebrow and onto his cheek, barely missing his eye. He wiped the blood from it, and glanced around — and immediately noticing Hoabna. He dropped his rapier and ran over, falling to his knees before his friend, who was bleeding heavily from his stumps.

The Shaman smiled weakly. "Saw that. Got him good, Yegelos."

"Shut up, you idiot," Yegelos said, and ripping off his vest, tore it in half and quickly wrapped the wounds. Raising his fingers to the air, he slowly blew out on them, bestowing a violet glow on them, which he waved over Hoabna's wounds. A faint breeze blew on them, and wherever it touched, the bleeding eased, the flesh beginning to heal. Slowly. Yegelos stood up, and shook his head at his friend. "You should've known not to get too close to that tail. Typical Shaman idiocy," he said, but with kindness.

Hoabna coughed. "Ibrenna ha," he said with a smirk, slipping into Shaman.

"Freni tarsi. Fuck you too, Hoabna," he said, and laughed at the surprise on shaman's face before it slipped into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, Gremian looked on the dragon's body, sword held too tightly in hand. He watched as the dragon's body began to smoke, slate gray scales disintegrating into air, and the flesh began to melt, like something rotting a thousand times quicker. He watched as the flesh burned away from the talons, from the neck, and from the head, leaving behind white bone. The dragon's skull gazed at him sightlessly, mouth still thrown upon in its death throes.

Satisfied, he turned and saw Vladimir, staggering beside the dragon's body. He sprinted and supported his friend just as he was about to fall, but let go when he yelped in pain. Only then did he notice the burns all over his body — even his scales and Mars-alignment had not been enough to protect him against black fire. "Easy," he said soothingly, and cast Potent Cure over the wounds.

Vlad gave a sigh of relief as the soothing balm soaked into his wounds, and opened one eye. "Thanks. And I'm sorry about Tanya, Gremian…"

Without saying a word, Gremian walked to the petrified body of his charge, and ran a mailed hand over her cheek. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, he thought. Instead, you protected me. Some Guardian I am. I'll protect your people, Tanya… your land, until the end of my days, and my descendents will until the last one dies.

He reached up with his free hand. Undid the clasp on the back of his helm. Took it off, and shook out his mane of blond hair. Gently, he laid the helm down beside Tanya.

"Rest in peace," he prayed.

It seemed to him, at that moment, as if breath tickled the back of his neck. He looked around, but there was no-one there.

Vladimir climbed shakily to his feet, healing the rest of his wounds with Aura. His legs almost buckled beneath him, and he realized he was worse off than he thought… unsteadily, he walked over to where Tanya lay petrified, laid against her side, and thought.

Pelagius. Tanya. Hoabna, crippled. All the people dead today… and those still to die, he thought as he craned his head up and looked at the peak of mount Aleph, which was now totally hidden in a fog of gold. Myr would cry when she heard about Pelagius… he only hoped she had not seen her father die.

He took a deep breath, and walked off to find the others… and as he walked across the battlefield, all he saw across the mountainside was dead, dead, dead, as far as the eye could see. Here and there, the odd figure moved, but senselessly, as if lost or shocked beyond all reason. They were the living dead.

As he walked across the mountainside, he was suddenly filled with a vision, almost a hallucination… he pictured himself, a lone man, swimming in a sea of dead and dying, walking a field of bodies, the last one alive. And he found the picture unbearably sad.

* * *

They were nearing the end, now. Argyros could feel it. Both of them were beyond normal humans now — the sheer amount of power they contained with them was astounding. They moved with blistering speed, their own movements hard to track, thought was action in this world. The clashing of their weapons was a constant sound, a symphony of clangs in a world of silence.

There was only the other, that's all that mattered. Red eyes that burned into silver that burned into red that burned into silver. Staring into their eyes, one got the impression of staring into a mirror, of seeing another of like.

Perhaps, in the end, they weren't that different.

The world around them was a dancing kaleidoscope of colours, the very field produced by their clash shimmering with the power of the Golden Sun. Pastel colours of pink, purple and blue melded with harsh red, black, and white, overcast with by a faint golden hue. The very stone beneath their feet shone gold, covered now and there by faint wisps of the fog. But both of them were beyond the fog's influence, now.

They needed no words. They spoke with their blades. Every slash, every clang, every grunt of pain as one scored, that was their language. It spoke of challenge, of triumph, of blood… it spoke to them, saying "one of you dies today". Conscious thought left them, replaced with an automatic instinct, no time for thinking or reaction, just be.

Argyros' katana danced with Gazimonus' scythe, moving so fast as to be a blur, their energy higher than ever. They both knew that there was no going back, now. It was now or never.

_Argyros swings his blade up, is blocked, and sweeps with his foot under.  
Gazimonus jumps his foot, parries Argyros' attack, and stabs with the haftblade of the scythe.  
Argyros twists his body around the blade, grabs the haft.  
Gazimonus twirls the scythe, breaking Argyros' grip, and slams the side of the scythe into him.  
Argyros flies through the air, lands and springs off again, his blade inscribing a storm of cuts in the air.  
Gazimonus spins his scythe, blocking many of them, but cuts still appear on his body. He grunts with pain, and drawing a dagger from his belt, feints an attack with his scythe, then buries it in Argyros' side._

Myr and Faye watched from the sidelines at the storm of motion that were Argyros and Gazimonus. Myr's mouth constantly whispered words of prayer, begging every God and Spirit she knew to spare her love.

"It's impossible," Faye breathed in disbelief. "They're too evenly matched! There can't be a winner to this!"

_But, there is._

Gazimonus, an idea suddenly occurring to him, reacted differently. He parried Argyros' return strike with the haft of his scythe, knocking the blade out of position, and then swung the head of his scythe down, a feral smile on his face as he aimed to cleave Argyros' head.

His blade out of easy parry, Argyros did the only thing he could think of. He threw up his free arm to block the scythe, and braced for the pain.

He still screamed as the blade sliced through his forearm and down through his shoulder, completely severing his arm from his body. It fell lifelessly to the ground, but there was a sudden flash in Argyros' eyes.

Myr cried out.

Instead of retreating, he lowered his shoulder and tackled Gazimonus. His scythe was on the wrong side, barred across him, and there was a snap as his arm broke and he was bowled over, landing on his back in the stone. His scythe fell from his hands.

Argyros pinned him with his knees, twirled his katana as he raised it, and buried it in Gazimonus' midsection, then wrenched the blade.

Gazimonus raised a guttural cry.

Faye cried out.

Whether it was Fate, or pure chance, or some will of Aleph's… they will never know. Perhaps the mountain had just decided it suffered enough… but by whatever cause, the impact of Argyros' blade found a fault… and with an ominous crack, the surface layer covering the crater and shielding Aleph's bowels from the world began to crumble.

Argyros removed his blade and tossed it aside as Gazimonus began to tumble backwards, and by instinct, grabbed Demante's hand as he fell.

Gazimonus looked up for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Well fought, Argyros," he said, twisting out of Argyros' grip and grabbing his wrist instead.

For one moment, Argyros was sure Gazimonus was going to drag him in with him. And bleeding heavily from his arm, he didn't have the strength to resist… it seemed something had penetrated the haze of the Golden Sun, after all.

"… Remember your promise, Argyros," was all Gazimonus said, as the pit yawned blackly beneath him, a gaping maw in the earth.

He released Argyros' wrist.

_Darkness swallows him._


End file.
